


Conventional

by Castastrophe



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blowjobs, First Kiss, First Time, Gift Fic, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, One Shot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 04:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1805083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castastrophe/pseuds/Castastrophe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was far from conventional, but then again, so were they, and perhaps conventional was overrated anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conventional

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> I was flooding guixonlove's tumblr inbox with anon Johnlock porn and getting increasingly frustrated with the character restriction. So here we are.

Their relationship wasn't conventional, but the more John thought on it, the more he realised it never had been. Even before they were a couple, the emotional bond between them was too intense for just friends, too ground moving. 

Then there was their dedication. To the work, to the people of London, and perhaps most substantially, each other. John could never have seen Sherlock as a fraud, even with every sign screaming at him to do so, and Sherlock often found John far too valuable to him to ever stop and even question why, something that Sherlock had always managed to do. 

When John had finally realised just what Sherlock had meant to him, the detective staring intently at him as he crowded the doctor against a wall, both of them high off adrenaline from a case, it was less of a startling earth shattering moment, and much more of an 'oh, of COURSE'. 

When Sherlock's mouth had dropped to his own, lips plush and demanding, John had followed along, as he always had when it came to his flatmate. 

Sherlock had been an intense individual for as long as John had known him, but when their tongues had first met, when long fingers had slid beneath John's jumper and pressed tightly against heated skin, John had experienced first hand just how intense Sherlock could be. When the detective had crowded even closer, the solid proof of his desires for John pressed against the doctor's hip, the stuttered groan of sound escaping Sherlock's throat had sent molten want searing through John's blood. 

As they'd stumbled to Sherlock's bedroom, hands peeling layers of clothing from skin, both desperate for contact, John had turned and pushed his flatmate backwards, Sherlock landing in a graceful sprawl upon the bed that had had John's mouth dry and his pants damp in a heartbeat. John had always appreciated Sherlock's eyes, bright with intelligence, hard with critique, but to see them dark and intense with desire had been more than he'd ever hoped for. 

"We're not naked yet. That needs to change," Sherlock had murmured, the first words since their kiss, and John had raised a brow, his fingers already getting to work on his trousers as Sherlock did the same to his own. Their eyes had never left each other's, with only their peripheral views doing more to guide arousal than a roaming gaze ever could have. When they had bared more than just their skin, each stripped of both clothing and whatever uncertainty may have lingered, John had found that Sherlock was much too far away, and had crawled atop the lithe sprawl of pale limbs with more haste than he'd considered himself capable of. 

Despite how detached and collected Sherlock always managed to be in a public setting, John had found a substantial amount of delight in just how opposite the case was in the bedroom. The detective was a sensual being, beyond anything John could have secretly wished. John had imagined, craved, begged for that to be the case on a subconscious level for as long as he'd known the man, with plush lips and dark curls begging to be wound taut around fingers, and Sherlock did not disappoint. 

Surgeon steady fingers mapped out ridged contours, soft skin interspersed with wisps of dark hair, and Sherlock was a soft chorus of encouraging noises and softly undulating limbs; a cacophony of 'please', 'yes', 'oh God' and 'John' that left the doctor struggling to keep himself together. When he pressed his lips to the pale skin taut with suspense, his breath ghosting along toned abdominal muscles, a low keen met his ears, sinfully long fingers carding through his hair and scrabbling for purchase as John worked wet kisses along a path appreciated by both men in kind. 

The first time John's lips had slipped over the head of Sherlock's weeping cock would be a memory etched carefully and concisely into Sherlock's mind palace, and that would burn with molten heat into the back of John's mind until the day he died. It had been years since he'd last done it, not since his army days, but Sherlock didn't seem concerned by his rusted skills. John did what he knew he loved, tongue slick, cheeks loose on the way down, hollowed and tight on the way up, and fingers curled on any remaining length that John was yet to comfortably encompass. 

The first time filth began to spill from Sherlock's lips, John near lost his mind, eyes clamping shut as the detective's hips lifted just slightly, piercing blue eyes watching intently as his cock slipped through the doctor's lips.  
"You have no idea, John," Sherlock had breathed, "No idea how long I've wanted your mouth on my cock. Absolutely stunning, fuck, more, please..."  
As a soldier, John followed orders, and with Sherlock as his new commander, he had nil inclination to disobey. 

The first time Sherlock came because of him, John had shifted to being knuckle deep inside him, mouth still working the detective's cock with Sherlock's fingers fisted in his hair.  
"John, John, oh Christ, I'm..." Sherlock had choked out, before his head had tilted back, the delicious column of his throat on display as his balls had tightened against John's probing hand, his cock pulsing as John greedily took everything offered like a man starved. John had come undone shortly after, his hand dropping to stroke at his own cock as Sherlock panted and cried through his own release, muscles clenching around John's fingers in ripples of unrestrained ecstasy. 

The first night, they had fallen together, boneless and thoroughly sated. Sherlock had laid still for the longest time, John's arm around him, bent so that his fingers could stroke through chaotic curls, Sherlock's head resting against his shoulder. The arousal had dispersed, but the euphoria had remained.  
"Why had we not done that sooner?" Sherlock's murmur had broken through the silence, and John had smiled against the detective's hair. 

"I wouldn't have a clue," John had replied, Sherlock shuffling even closer in the process, before turning to face his lover with that same intense gaze usually reserved for blood spatters or decomposing body parts, a compliment within context. John knew Sherlock was curious, analytical, and he'd waited for further words, only hoping that the detective would not succumb to overthinking. 

"I imagine I'd like to do it again," Sherlock offered slowly, "Repeatedly. With variables. Often, as well."  
There was lecherous intent in that gaze, sending a thrill chasing along John's spine as he had tugged minutely on that hair, Sherlock's lips instantly parting in response.  
"As long as you're aware I won't share, and I expect this to be a relationship and not fucking interspersed between cases," John offered lowly, as Sherlock's eyes were swiftly darkening with lust once again.  
"As if there were any other intent on my behalf, honestly, John," Sherlock snarked, and the doctor decided that the best way to wipe that know it all expression from Sherlock's face was to kiss it from him. 

It had been two years, and yes, John was fully aware that their relationship was far from what convention demanded. Sherlock still left body parts in the fridge, still rattled off biting remarks at crime scenes, pissed most of the Yard off on a weekly basis, and often dragged John into situations that put them both at more risk than the doctor was comfortable with. 

Still, conventional or not, it was the best relationship John had ever been in, and for Sherlock, the only one that had ever counted.


End file.
